I like to believe that I’ve been a Democrat since I was 12. The first presidential election that I can remember was between President Barack Obama and Mitt Romney. I was in 7th grade, talking to my friend's dad, when he told me he was planning on voting for Obama’s reelection. I don't even know how we arrived at the topic of politics, but we did. My friend was clearly not interested, but who can blame her? We were 12, for God’s sake, and we’re Asian—I’ll talk more about this later. Anyway, I can’t remember distinctly why I liked Obama, but I did, and I proudly announced my support for him. Or, maybe it was just because I hated Romney (can’t remember why either). Not that it mattered, because I couldn’t vote regardless.
Eight years later, my dad, who’d been an eligible voter for twelve years, and I, for two, voted together for the first time. That day marked a monumental moment for the both of us, as we embarked on a new tradition to vote. Not only were we voting against Trump’s reelection, but we were also supporting the Working Families Party, which was desperately at risk of being eliminated due to Governor Andrew Cuomo’s law regarding third parties. Fortunately, New Yorkers tenaciously showed up to defend progressive power, propelling the party past the threshold needed to remain on the ballot.
While I’m proud my dad and I could be a part of this effort, I haven’t always seen the point in voting, especially because New York City typically votes Democrat. I was wrong because, as I mentioned in my previous newsletter, I’m currently being represented by a Republican congresswoman. I’m going to tell you all the truth: I didn’t even vote for Democratic Congressman Max Rose when he ran for office in 2018. I definitely could’ve because I turned 18 just two months before the general election. At the time, I was studying away at NYU Washington, D.C. and there was actually a voter registration event. I did manage to register to vote! I even requested an absentee ballot! I can’t remember how long it took to arrive, but it did. I even remember filling out the ballot, voting blue all the way, but didn’t mail it. I think it could’ve been because it was past the deadline to postmark my ballot, but I’m honestly not sure. It was either that, or I thought it was too late to mail it, without even taking a quick second to check on the New York State Board of Elections website. Either way, I just didn’t want to take that extra step. To answer those of you who are wondering, yes, I do regret not voting back in 2018. Just imagine, what if Democratic candidate Max Rose needed 1 more vote? Not that he did, but this is a hypothetical situation.
As for my dad, he had the same mindset as me. It’s a waste of time because New York City is always blue, so why bother? Also, who would want to stand in those really long voting lines? My dad used to think that there is no point in voting because both the Democratic and Republican candidates are pretty much the same; they won’t do much for him. But quite frankly, I also think it is having to register to vote that makes him more unwilling to do so. In New York City, registering online is pretty easy. All we needed to have handy was our New York State ID and Social Security cards. My dad has a driver’s license and I have a non-driver ID card, so it shouldn’t be that difficult for us. Yet, it is hard because what about the people who aren’t technologically savvy? What about those who don’t have one of those required ID cards? What then? These are registration barriers that can contribute to the burden of voting.
So, what did voting for the first time in 2020 teach me? I discovered the heartbreaking truth that about a third of Asian Americans voted to reelect Trump. Despite reaching a new high in voter turnout, I was still disappointed in the Asian American voters’ low turnout rate. We are the fastest-growing racial group in America, yet we are still politically invisible. This was also the inspiration for why I decided to launch my newsletter.
The lack of voter turnout in our community primarily lies in the lack of language access for Asian Americans who demonstrate limited English proficiency. According to the 2020 Asian American Voter Survey, the majority of Asian Americans are immigrants and more than 1 in 3 Asian Americans prefer language assistance when voting. All of this is to say that there is a lack of language access for Asian Americans who demonstrate limited English proficiency. Not only are they unable to understand the electoral process, but they also don’t have access to the candidates’ stances on particular issues. So, tell me, how can they make an informed decision when campaigns aren’t organizing to get them to the polls?
When we talk about language barriers, we have to take into consideration that Asian Americans are spread out across the country and speak over 100 languages. While I am privileged enough to grow up in New York City, the city with the highest number of Asian Americans, others may not be as lucky. There is no doubt that language barriers still exist in New York City, but compared to states like Alabama and Kentucky, where there is a small percentage of Asian Americans, I am fortunate to exist in a space where I can find others who look like me. There also needs to be a greater recognition that our community is culturally diverse. According to the Postsecondary National Policy Institute, “the AAPI umbrella represents over 50 different ethnic groups that vary greatly in terms of languages, English proficiency, colonial history, immigration patterns, and socioeconomic status.” I guess all Asians aren’t the same after all!
Notice how both of these Asian American voter surveys only include the major ethnic groups that are associated with the Asian American racial identity. I’m not blaming them, I mean I do understand there are limited resources and these ethnic groups do have the largest populations. But, do you get the drift? When we aren’t inclusive of the minority groups in our community, we, too, are perpetuating the notion that Asian Americans are a monolith. That is an issue for another day, but even here in these graphs, we can see just how diverse the voting patterns are depending on the ethnic group.
To ensure that the Asian American population aligns with the voter turnout rate, we can start by asking ourselves and our family members why we don’t vote. The little effort that we make matters, and it can happen right in our community—even if it is just helping one person register to vote. We have to start this work now, rather than closer to Election Day. The Asian American electorate deserves to be educated in policy issues that affect them on a day-to-day basis. There needs to be greater access to resources that will educate them on how to elect leaders that will properly represent them, whether the election is presidential, congressional, state, or local. We need to take it to heart that campaigns aren’t prioritizing us, and the best revenge is to show up, vote, and mobilize. Only when we start investing in our community do we become Politically Visible Asians!
To further decolonize our minds:
FiveThirtyEight | Asian Americans on the 2020 Election
Vox | Many Vietnamese-American Voters Prefer Trump Over Biden
CBS News | Importance of Asian Americans in 2020 Election (Video)
New America | Why Asian Americans Don't Vote
The Guardian | Could Asian Americans Help Swing Georgia's Senate Races?
Pew Research | Racial and Ethnic Composition of the U.S. Electorate
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